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Bounty hunting is a soulless business

   He sat on the edge of a flat surfaced rock in front of the cave, a little gloomy but nonetheless focused and composed, he felt shivers as the cold chill of the northern wind hit his back, announcing ominously the departure of the Sun, and the inevitable arrival of the night.
  'it has been a long day' he thought to himself, even though he didn't keep count, the sun was generous that day, all the more reason to be afraid of the dark, he took his dagger out of his pocket, it was still dripping, little red drops of fresh blood, he frowned at the misfortune, 'my pocket is now all dirty and smelly' he said with a hint of discomfort, two meters to his right side laid the body of a beast, dead and markedly injured throughout, its throat visibly slit and still pouring hot blood in progressively weakening thrusts, the beast gave its last jerks and went cold, the hunter looked at it, 'you hear that' he said mockingly, 'at least you managed to foul my cloth' he added as he stood up and walked towards the body, he squatted next to it and murmured words, most likely a prayer, and he lifted its heavy body and put it on his back, it was an antelope.
   he walked slowly towards the cave, balancing each step carefully to manage the heavy load on his back as best as possible, with each step he took he could feel the sun went down an inch, and the cold breeze of the night shook his spine to the core, he felt overwhelmingly lonely and abandoned, he looked around him into the forest as it was turning black, and saw flickering eyes behind the bushes, waiting for the last ray of light to dissipate, he grasped the gravity of the situation and his breath stopped for a second, the vultures are coming, he hurried his steps and paid no attention to balance, he was too careless and now he is in a win or die situation, he imagined the beast mocking him from his back and the thought gave him anger and force, he came near the opening of the cave and with a mighty leap he was able to secure himself.
      night vultures can not enter within roofed chambers, they roam only under open skies, the hunter was able to catch his breath, and relief enveloped him gently, he looked at his prey, the upper half of it was inside, and the other half gone leaving a trail of gruesome blood leading into the dark, he dragged his half by the horn and put it next to the wood, he made a fire in the centre of the cave, warmth slipped in timidly and he felt his blood run again.
     he cooked the antelope on the fire, the repetitive cooking movements brought memories to him, memories of his clan and his great uncle, and he was no longer cold, he picked a piece of meat and looked outside into the night, the vultures took over and he could see their flickering eyes piercing into his heart, filled with impatient maliciousness,
   '' this world has become way too fucked up'' he said aloud, and he took a fat bite of meat.

   

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